


Firelight

by faithlessone



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fireplaces, Fluff, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 13:37:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13124835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithlessone/pseuds/faithlessone
Summary: There are few things quite as nice as sitting by a roaring fire by yourself, Evelyn thinks.





	Firelight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oOAchilliaOo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oOAchilliaOo/gifts).



There are few things quite as nice as sitting by a roaring fire by yourself, Evelyn thinks, staring into the flames in her own, personal fireplace. A rare moment of peace and quiet.

It’s not that she _minds_ being the Inquisitor. Or the Herald. They’re both huge titles with even huger responsibilities, but everyone else seems to think she’s doing a good job at it. She can’t help liking the change in people’s faces when they realise who she is. The hope that she brings. The belief. The light.

She’s kind of like the firelight, in a way. Glowing and making things warmer and nicer.

There are still a hundred, a thousand jobs to do, off out travelling across Ferelden and Orlais from one edge of the map to the other. She enjoys being out in the world, having adventures and seeing sights she never would have seen without having this glowing anchor in her hand. But it seems like she spends almost as much time in Skyhold, making judgements and entertaining guests and talking, talking, talking about the state of the world.

That’s what being the Inquisitor is all about, apparently. And she _doesn’t_ mind.

It’s just that…

When she’s out in the world, people rarely recognise her with her gloves on. She can drink in a tavern with her companions and be invisible. She can sit by the campfire after a long day of hunting Venatori or closing Fade Rifts, and listen to stories or read a book without being bothered. The Requisitions Officers are always asking her to find things, but they will happily leave her alone if she’s still working on a request.

Here at Skyhold though… 

Everyone stares and gossips when she sits in the Herald’s Rest, even when she’s with her companions. Sitting in the garden is even worse. A simple game of chess turns into a spectator sport, everyone watching and whispering. It just gets worse as the weeks go on and more recruits and pilgrims end up at the castle, drawn by the reputation of the mighty Inquisition.

But the Main Hall is the worst of all. In the early days it was fine to sit and talk with Varric next to that huge fireplace he’s adopted as his own. Amidst scaffolding and bits of masonry, sure, but people just walked past without looking too hard. Now the hall seems permanently full of ‘important guests’, and they all want to talk to her and hear about her adventures and tell her about their problems. She can’t even get through a meal without a dozen people asking her questions.

She wants to help them all, she really does, but it seems like her list just never ends. As soon as she solves one person’s problem, another three have been added to the records that Josie so diligently keeps track of. Then there’s the politics of who she needs to help first and what she needs to do herself and what she’s _allowed_ to do herself and what she needs to send Leliana for or Josie or Cullen… It’s a minefield of protocol, and it doesn’t help that people keep asking her for more and more whenever she walks through Skyhold.

There’s only so many times she can claim she and Varric or Vivienne or Leliana or… whoever are talking ‘important Inquisition business’ and ask to be left alone. Even Josie’s started giving her disapproving looks.

You’d think with a fortress as big and as impressive as Skyhold, filled with people, she’d be able to blend into the tavern with Bull or conceal herself in the library with Dorian, but not so much. Bull offered her a disguise whenever she wanted to disappear for a bit, but it feels disingenuous to pretend to be someone she’s not just to avoid some gossip. Also, she’s a terrible liar. So people whisper behind their hands and stare when they think she’s not looking. 

Sometimes she retreats to Cullen’s tower, but he’s always so busy with his piles of paperwork and hours of training, and the guards and scouts are always walking through his office on their rounds. She never manages to steal him away for more than a kiss.

No matter where she goes, she’s always on display.

Except here.

Josephine, Leliana and Cassandra had presented these private quarters above the hall with almost as much ceremony as they’d presented her with the sword when she was named Inquisitor. They’d gushed about the fine Marcher furniture they’d specially ordered to make her feel at home, and the beautiful Inquisition stained glass Vivienne had commissioned, and the elegant private desk so she could work in peace.

She casts a not-as-guilty-as-it-should-be look towards the desk, which is groaning with reports she should have already read. They’ll keep for one more evening.

It’s probably symbolic, her bedroom being right at the top of the castle, with the multiple balconies overlooking her domain. In practice, it’s usually cold and always lonely and no one ever seems to make it up the stairs unless it’s a dire emergency, or one of the scouts leaving yet another report on her desk. It’s so far away from anything. 

There are few things quite as nice as sitting by a roaring fire by yourself, she thinks, but she’d really prefer having just a little bit of company.

A knock at her door breaks the quiet.

Not the typical sharp rap of one of the scouts, nor the soft but firm tap of Leliana, the only other person who usually comes up. A hesitant sound, like the person knocking isn’t really sure about committing to the action. 

“Inquisitor? Are you there?”

Cullen’s voice. She can’t deny that it immediately makes her feel better, just as always, and she wonders if she’s somehow summoned him.

“I’m here,” she calls back, getting to her feet.

There’s the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and then he comes into view over the bannister. His mantle and head are dusted with snow, his cheeks a little red from the cold. As he reaches the top of the steps, his gaze darts around the room.

“You’ve never been up here before?” she asks.

He shakes his head, little flakes of snow flying from his hair. “The ladies dealt with the… furnishing. I supplied some men to do the heavy lifting, of course. The bigger pieces.” His eyes land on her bed and the flush along his cheeks deepens slightly.

“What do you think?”

His gaze snaps back to her. “It’s very… big.”

“The room, or my bed?”

She loves teasing him. It started quite by accident, but she doesn’t think she’ll ever stop loving how flustered he gets when she does it. 

“Well, both, I suppose,” he replies, rubbing the back of his neck almost unconsciously. “I apologise, Inquisitor, is this… all right? Josephine told me you left during dinner. Are you unwell?”

“I keep telling you to call me Evelyn. At least when we’re not on duty.”

His nervous expression softens, stepping towards her so that she’s within arms’ reach. “Evelyn.”

She sinks back down into the cushion nest she’s built in front of the fireplace. A little awkwardly, he settles down beside her.

“Evelyn?” he asks again. “Please talk to me?”

She shakes her head. “I’m fine, Cullen, I promise. I just wanted a bit of peace and quiet.”

His face falls, just slightly, and then he nods and starts as if to leave. She catches his arm, pulling it around her. The metal plate of his armour isn’t the most comfortable thing to lean against, especially chilled as it is. He seems to read her mind again, loosening the buckles to remove the pieces before pulling her back against him.

“It all gets a bit much, doesn’t it?” he says softly as her attention falls back to the flames. “People demanding your attention every minute of the day?”

She nods, resting her head against his shoulder.

“I know, I’m the last person who should be telling you this. But… if you need to escape for a little while, or want some company, you have only to ask me.”

She can’t help but laugh at that.

“I know, I know. But for you I will tear myself away from my reports and training schedules. Call it Inquisitorial Morale Boosting. I’ll even put it on the timetable.”

“This will do for tonight,” she says, snuggling into him. “Just stay right here.”

He relaxes against her, pulling her tighter into his arms and resting his head on top of hers.

She revises her earlier thought. There’s nothing quite as _perfect_ as sitting by a roaring fire with the person you love.


End file.
